


Your hand to hold

by SelinaShadow



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, Coming Out, Cute, Established Relationship, F/F, Football | Soccer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 12:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16346501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelinaShadow/pseuds/SelinaShadow
Summary: Lexa is faced with the morning after she comes out to her parents and it didn't go quite as planned. She's angry and more than a little sad while trying to work through her feelings the only way she knows how. Kicking a soccer ball around the feild.But one thing is certain, Clark will always be there for her when she least expects it.(Really short, just a little idea that wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it down.)





	Your hand to hold

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, nothing explicit happens. Just mentioned overall and nothing is meant to depict hate. It's just a lot of Lexa thinking and processing. Don't kill me if you hate it, please.

Lexa enjoyed early mornings. She liked the quiet and the crisp cold air that always accompanied the early hours of the day. She would use the early mornings to practice trick shots in the empty soccer field, always trying to improve. But today was different, Lexa was on the field trying to channel her anger into something productive. 

When the clock struck six am, Lexa was out of bed and gearing up her longboard to ride towards the soccer field. Rushing through her morning routine and tip toeing out on her still dormant girlfriend without being spotted.

On the ride to the field, she considered that perhaps this morning wasn't so bad, just that last night was terrible and it had dragged on into the next day. 

The ride didn’t last that long and before she knew it she was dropping her gym bag on the bench and switching her sneakers for cleats. As she struggled to take off her hoodie, she felt the hot pressure between her temples that reminded her of the slithering traces of anger still left behind from the night prior. She held the jacket in her hands, the soft material she had hidden behind like a shield when life got hard. It was her dads, from when he had attended Grounders University and been on the soccer team. Lexa ran her hands over the golden emblem printed on the cotton and sighed, dropping it over her bag and walking off towards the locker rooms and grabbed a large bag filled with soccer balls. 

She ignored how the word ‘WOODS’ glared in black letters to her. She wanted to ignore everything right now. Everything but the burning of muscles, the feeling of cold air in her lungs and the sting of kicking a ball repeatedly into the net.

Lexa always did a few laps around the field after her stretching, just to keep her game up. Switching the number of laps so she would not get too used to her routine. After her jog was finished, she would stretch again and start her private little practice session.

She was meticulous in her footwork, playing around with the black and white ball, kicking it up in the air and doing tricks for when she started to grow bored. But this morning was all about release, so that is what she did. She released all the anger and hurt kept inside of her, kicking ball after ball as if they were the source of her pain. 

She growls to herself when she misses a shot after a particularly hard kick and runs a hand over her sweaty face. Cupping her hands over her face and biting back the urge to just yell, scream, shout or maybe even explode. She’s take anything at all right now to just release all these conflicting emotions she felt roaring in her. 

She would joke to herself sometimes that she felt she was going crazy, but after these past few days, those words rang in her ears not as a joke, but as a warning. 

"Maybe I am going crazy." she murmurs pathetically, sitting down on the grass and laying on her back to stare at the pale blue sky above. 

She took deep breaths through her nose, her hands toying with blades of glass. She closed her eyes and could feel the beating of her heart in her chest, thrumming quickly from her exertions. She sighs when a gust of wind sweeps in and chills the trails sweat and tears have left on her neck and face. 

She carefully tries to think when she started crying, but can't point out a specific time. She's felt like crying all morning and she cried most of the night until her stubborn anger kicked in and she began shouting. And boy did Lexa shout, her ears still rang and her temples still twitched with the reminder of a headache she had been faced with minutes before she fell asleep. 

For what feels like the millionth time in her life she mumbles to herself, "Life isn't easy, but its worth it."

She can't help but huff in annoyance when flashes of last nights yelling match crossed her mind. She remembers Indra crying, Anya smiling brightly at her in encouragement and her father's anger. 

Gustus wasn’t a bad man, Lexa reflected. Just set in his ways and when anything came too close or shocked him too hard it would cause the man to lose all composure. 

She remembers crying at the beginning, but when her mother and father had started yelling things about God and what people would say she lost it. She had started yelling about her rights to be happy, accepted, loved for who she was and why that was not enough. 

It had started going back in forth rather quick when Gustus started talking about God. At one point she remembers her father yelling at her mother and she had butted in again, quick to defend her crying mother. Telling him if it was about growing up a certain way he was just as much equally responsible. That had made him quiet for a second or so until he whispered something that had her anger dissipated into nothing. 

"Get out."

It had knocked the air out of her lungs; it made her look up at her father as one did a stranger. Tentative, skeptical and unsure. Until he repeated it louder, eyes angry, lost...hurt. An exact replica of her own green ones, but now instead of looking warm, they looked crystalized. 

It sent a shiver down Lexa's spine, that's what had made her leave. To watch the glassy shimmer in her father's eyes and knowing somewhere deep inside that his demand was actually a plea for her to go. To give him time to think, to let him analyze and understand on his own. 

The knowledge still didn't make it hurt less and as she walked out of the living room -where she had spent her entire life curled up in a warm blanket of love and protection- she felt bare. 

The two words still echoed in her ears in her sleep, she dreamt of it a hundred different ways and woke up more than once at night crying into her pillow. 

“Get out.”  
“Get out.”  
“Get out.”

Growling to herself she gets up and huffs, again like a switch the anger was back. 

She knew it was just her mind trying to protect itself from the distressed feelings but it didn't make anything easier to handle. She eyes the ball a few yards in front of her and rushes towards it. 

If he wanted her out, fine. She would wait for him to think and come find her. But she couldn’t promise to go back to the house. It was burnt into her mind, she was unwelcome. 

“Unwelcome in my own house,” she huffs, kicking another soccer ball harshly into the net. 

No, she reasoned, that was her parents’ house. She had her house; she had her house for a while. Even better actually, Lexa had a home. A beautiful apartment with the girl she loved. 

And if her loving a beautiful, talented, warm, kind, incredible and gentle woman; was a problem for her parents than they would have to deal with it. 

She launched in again to her playing, kicking out harsh shots into the net. Some so hard she would almost hear a whistle of wind when the balls sailed through the air. She doesn’t think as she kicks the ball up to her knee and higher still until its launch in the air and sinks into the left corner of the net, she could not fight off the small vicious grin.

What she was not expecting, was the clap that sounded from somewhere behind her. 

She turns quickly, almost tripping on her own feet to see a younger girl with blonde hair clapping at her from a few feet behind. 

"That was… quite a shot, Woods." says the young blonde, her blue eyes soft and tired. 

"Oh, I- how did you know I was here?" Lexa chuckles, wiping her hand over herself, to brush off whatever blades of grass may have stuck to her from her minutes on the ground.

The blonde raises an eyebrow, "I didn't know you'd be here, but I stopped by here first before going to the lake. Just to cover my bases, I knew you could be that far when I saw your skateboard gone." she shrugs.

“Longboard.” Lexa chuckles, eyes soft as she takes in Clarke’s appearance from a few feet away. 

The blonde looked tired, but so beautiful anyway. She was wearing blue jeans and a T-Shirt Lexa was sure was one of her own. Somehow, Clarke always seemed to ‘accidentally’ put on one of Lexa’s’ band T-shirts, claiming she just can’t keep track anymore. But Lexa for a fact knew, that Clarke hated Metallica with a passion. And the black shirt was one Lexa wore all the time, she reasoned Clarke must have picked it up from her side of the closet in a rush to get ready.

"I'm sorry Clarke, I was going to leave a message but I just, I needed to get out of there. I just needed a moment." Lexa apologizes, eyes low on the grass. 

"Hey, no worries.” Clarke smiles softly. Giving Lexa a small peck on the cheek before tangling her hands in with the brunets. 

“I spoke to your sister... she called me last night after you fell asleep. She fills me in on how things went... I'm so sorry babe." The blonde frowns, closing the distance between them to wrap her girlfriend in a hug. 

Lexa hides her face in the blonde's neck, fighting off the knot in her throat. She did not want to cry anymore, she was tired of crying. 

She goes to take a breath and it hitches in her throat and fuck, she was crying again. 

"He-he just-" Lexa stutters. 

Clarke shushes her, holding the brunette loser. "I know babe, I know." she sighs. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise. I know it’s hard to see it right now, but it’s going to be okay." she murmurs, squeezing the emotional girl in her arms. 

Lexa feels like everything is happening in a dream blurry, untangled, rushed but oddly vivid. 

"I feel like I'm going crazy." she murmurs softly, "I'm just so angry at him, the world, at- at everything." she finally cries. 

"Everything will be okay." Clarke soothes her distressed girlfriend. 

"Can we just go home?" Lexa asks quietly, almost laughing as she pulls away to wipe her tears. "I don't know why I keep crying," she mumbles frustrated before laughing at herself again when tears continue to fall. She must look like a mess to the blonde. 

"Let's go home," Clarke confirms, kissing Lexa’s cheek one more time before wiping whatever stray tears are left and placing a kiss on her girlfriend's lips. 

It’s a chaste kiss, just barely enough pressure to send a message to Lexa’s brain that everything was going to be okay. That she was safe and cared for. She could feel her shoulders drop and the tiredness from her earlier exertion start to hit her. 

Clarke is holding Lexa's hand tightly. As if the pressure in her hand could somehow hold together Lex's heart from shattering even more than it had in the past 15 hours. 

As they walk to the apartment house -Clarke carrying Lexa’s gym bag and Lexa dragging her longboard in their free hands- one thing runs through the brunette's mind over and over again. 

And that night, as she lay in bed with Clarke wrapped around her. The blonde's breath hitting the back of her neck with every exhale and the warmth of the moment she lay there it was enough to thaw at the freezing ache in her chest. The love Clarke blessed her with every single day, the understanding and the compassion. She couldn't picture having this with anyone else, it was the confirmation she didn't know she was searching for. This relationship they had built together, the steps that had to take for herself would always be the right choice for her. 

She was tired of hiding under a blanket or behind a closed door. 

She could face any harsh morning as long as she had Clarke's hand holding her own.


End file.
